Thief
by wrecked
Summary: AU&OCs Balmung been working for his father for years, doing all the dirty and dangerous illegal jobs. Finally after almost eight years, he wants out. But there's one last thing he has to do before his father will let him go.
1. prologue

**anime**: hack twilight  
**when**: does it matter?  
**where**: alternate world, completely different circumstances, as you most likely could already tell.  
**pairings**: that really should not even be questioned, anymore  
**rating**: let's go with T for right now, but it will reach M sooner or later.  
**disclaimer**: i don't own rena, shugo, or balmung, or any other terms that may seem familiar to you. when those come up, i'll let you know.

have fun reading the new version, revamped as of 7.19.08.

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prologue: _addo_

My father, by pure corruption of power and money, was a tyrant, a dictator. He opposed all those who let themselves be governed and moved by the matters of the heart, by relation of blood and kin. He followed in the footsteps of all the men that are now seen as horrible, inexcusable, inexplicable. He believed in doing all it took to rise to ultimate power, and killing all those who stepped in his way, even if it meant his most trusted partners. Even if it meant his own wife.

It began with her, my mother, sixteen years ago.

Almost two decades ago, he was just an honest man living a dishonest life, trying to get by, trying to survive. He put food on all our plates, kept us safe at night without a worry. There just the occasional deal, the occasional trafficking. Like every average american man, he had something illegal happening, whether it was drugs, whether it was illegal work, whether it was stealing, whether it was even as simple as sneaking a few extra bucks into your pocket before going home at night.

Then things started to change.

People began to show up at our doorstep, looming and dark and very dangerous looking. They walked in without word, without bothering to acknowledge me with more than a glance. Once, they didn't notice I was there until a dark man kicked my shin in mid-stride. They left just as silently, just as quickly, just as ominously and dangerous.

Threats and demand became more prominent to the point where my mother, my sister and I started to become the targets just as often as my father was. My father turned a blind eye to them all, calling them good-natured jokes between friends and business partners.

My mother didn't like it. She had blue eyes and blond hair, a beautiful example of the "Aryan" race at best with high cheekbones and pale skin, that drew my father to her.

She packed her things, tucked away many of mine and my sister's belongings underneath hers for fear that he would refuse to let his children go as well. But that had turned out to be the very least of her worries and she tried to flee without warning, without me, without Cecilia.

Then, when I was twelve, he killed her.

Right in front of me and my sister.

* * *

i'm getting there,

just so you know. i'm working on things.  
-wrecked.


	2. reinforcements

this is thief, take two.  
i hope it kicks the shit out of the old version.

enjoy!

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chapter one: _reinforcements_

A lot of the time, I watch people walking down the street. Some of them have the most hideous outfits you could imagine (suit with orange heels?) and some of them wear clothes that are too young for them. I can see the wallets sticking out of men's back pockets, imagine the plastic cards in the purses of many women.

It's how my mind, my body works. For twelve years, I've been a thief, a pickpocket, a burglar. At twenty-four years old, I steal for a living.

"Balmung."

"I know."

And this is my last steal.

I pulled open the van door, all-too-used to the sound of groaning, rusty metal that threatened to fall off any second. Each time the side-door opened, flakes of paint would spiral to the ground, sprinkling the street with ashy gray dust.

"Just one more," I said to myself, quietly so only I'd understand. I dropped my half-finished cigarette to the ground and let it burn slowly as I tightened the laces on my soft-soled shoes. "Grand Avenue," I reminded my gray haired, wrinkled partners, and started walking.

**&**

The van ride back was silent except for the sound of the van jarring with each bump, each pothole. Every turn resulted in a series of creaks and groan accompanied by a slow sounding squeal, rocks and bolts rolling and hitting the side of the van.

My partners, two old men, the driver with a white, scraggly beard and darkly tanned skin and the other with a red moustache and folds under his eyes, both examined the three jewels sapphires, dating back to the age of Egyptians and priceless. The truth was, they were both just old men who had gotten dragged into something by need of money and a life outside of their quiet homes. Without children, without the ability to get out much more often due to tiredness, driving around was the best they could get. They held things that most others didn't even get a chance to get a close look at, examined priceless items that had been held in safes for almost a decade. This was their excitement. This was their lives.

"Watch the road, Or."

The man with the scraggly beard gave me a half glance before turning his full attention back to driving. As I kept my gaze fixed on Or (Orca) for a second longer, I could see Kit look back at me. I knew they felt superior to me despite the fact that they weren't, but I humored them anyways. I was tired of feeling on top.  
When we arrived back at the "base", as Kit and Or liked to call it, Kit said, "tell your father we're going to the garage and to page us if needed," then unlocked the van doors.

I didn't bother replying. That's where they always went.

I tossed the artifacts at my father's door as I took a longer route around the house, passing by my sister's room as I headed towards the kitchen. When I looked inside her doorway, I saw she had a few candles lit behind her as she sat under a desk light, studying. In the candle lit, her skin looked golden rather than freckled ivory. Her headphones were in, barely hidden by the white-blonde hair we shared, so she didn't hear nor see me open the door. She flipped the page of the textbook once more before I closed the door then continued walking.

I ate only an orange with water, taking my time to peel off the orange skin and the pasty white underneath and thinking. Stalling. It was going to be difficult to talk to my father. I was not looking forward to it at all and I debated the idea of waiting until morning to confront him, trying to think of a way to make it anything but a suicide mission to declare that I no longer wanted a part of his "business".

But my father called me down, anyways.

So I started walking.

**&**

"Anything to be of concern? Mistakes, mishaps?"

I shook my head "no", waiting for the next question to come along. This was routine - he'd never place his hands on it unless he was sure nothing had gone awry with the mission, never be caught on the spot by officials asking where he was on what days, what kind of business he had in his own house. He had worked hard to get where he was, as he often told Cecilia, and he wasn't about to let that slip away because someone had been careless, childish. She always nodded, pretending she understood when, really, she wished that the very thing he feared would happen.

"Good. You may leave."

I stood still for a second, holding my gaze with his. His eyes were just as deep a brown as my own, only with more of a hint of hazel, and less interested. His eyebrow raised, questioning, giving me permission to speak as his eyes fell down to the items.

"I'm done."

He didn't even give me a glance of recognition or acknowledgement, just kept fiddling quietly. I stayed silent.

"I know you are, son. Now, leave me until I decide what your next assignment should be."

I could feel my heart slightly speed up, angrily, at the dismissive tone, the casualness with which he spoke to me. I clenched my jaw before speaking, "You know what I am telling you."

He looked up at me, finally, then said, "and you know what I am telling you."

I was becoming irrational, rushed. All my previous brooding and preparations disappeared. "You have no choice."

He smiled, teeth showing and sharp, then he laughed. "No, son, you have no choice." I waited for him to keep speaking, my breath quick and anxious and impatient. "Unless Ceci is no longer a factor in your decisions."

I froze in the middle of leaning forward, ready to counter his words, slack-jawed. "What?"

"You heard me. Now, you can go, take Ceci with you, but you must complete one more assignment before."

All the anger and anxiety drained from my body, replaced by confusion and absolute wariness. This was too easy, I knew. All my thinking, all the scenarios I had played out in my head involved my father getting some kind of angry, claiming disobedience and ignorance and many other things about me...but none of them had even come close to the calm, cooperative course the events were taking. Narrowing my eyes and slightly turning away from my father, I said, "what's the catch?"

It was then that my father smiled, amused but evil. Dangerously accomplished. "Are you willing to complete it?"

If it meant Ceci and I were free, then-

"Yes."

"Good."

Inwardly, I winced at the slight raise in my father's voice and wondered just what the fuck I had gotten myself into. All I knew was that it wasn't good and I was in deep shit.

**&**

I was angry. Livid. Fuming. Beyond rage and fury, beyond my usual boiling point. All my pride had been stripped from me in one single instant when I knew I'd been tricked. My father had me fooled completely, taken advantage of his eagerness and desperation and wrapped his fingers around me in full.

_"This could take up to years to complete," my father said, calmly, sliding forward a cream colored file with a sense of finality. He had won, duped his own son into a possible few more years of "service". All within five minutes of the confrontation. I was an idiot._

_I stared at him, unsure of how to take that information before I erupted into another fiery fit of anger and adrenaline. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Years? That meant I had a lot of planning to do, several items to take, blueprints, everything. Nothing took more than couple of months, not with my team. I calmed myself down, thinking of how I'd prove him wrong and my team would finish the assignment, record time. I picked up the file and searched for the prize._

_"Exactly what it says-this could take years to complete."_

_"Right," I said, dismissing the subject almost as quickly as I'd instigated it, focusing more on the papers in my hands. I didn't look up, even as I finished looking through the last of the pictures and alias information, reading the source page, listing all the men and what information they contributed to the case. I saw a few friends of mine, and Cecilia's name popped up once, listing her as the one who found an address, but only that._

_"You'll be working with a different team instead of your usual."_

_It was then, that I looked up, shocked. "What?"_

He then explained I would be working on an assemble of five amateurs. Two guys, three girls. The oldest was a woman still a year my junior, with red hair and green eyes, and also the unofficial head of the group. The youngest was a blonde girl, over four years my junior. Between them was a set of twins - one boy, one girl - with identical brown hair and brown eyes, three years younger, and a twenty-two year old dirty blonde with hazel eyes and a crooked nose. I didn't care for their names, so when their code names were listed rather than their real ones, I couldn't have cared less. They mattered nothing to me.

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If you read the old Thief, then I hope you can see the positive change in this revised version.

Enjoy!


End file.
